


until we close our eyes for good

by ElasticElla



Category: The Vampire Diaries (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon, Episode: s01e21 Isobel, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-02
Updated: 2019-03-02
Packaged: 2019-11-07 21:08:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 643
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17968079
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ElasticElla/pseuds/ElasticElla
Summary: Isobel wants what any mother wants- her child to have a safe future, her ex-husband to get over her, and a swift return to her hedonistic lifestyle.





	until we close our eyes for good

**Author's Note:**

> title from cage the elephant's ain't no rest for the wicked

Isobel wants what any mother wants- her child to have a safe future, her ex-husband to get over her, and a swift return to her hedonistic lifestyle. She doesn’t like being in Mystic Falls, prefers to live where no one knows who or what she is. It’s safer, smarter, and survival has always run heavy in the Petrova genes.   
  
Which is why her latest plan is stupid and sentimental to say the least. She should dispose of her companions and be on a plane to the opposite side of the world, Thailand’s supposed to be nice this time of year. She should be forgetting that she has a daughter at all, that was a piece of her human life- her past life. That girl is dead, and revivals have always been an unfortunate business.   
  
She shouldn’t be sitting in Amici’s- the closest thing Mystic Falls has to fine dining- waiting for Auntie Vanilla to show up. She could go to Ric instead, skip all the games and demand a meeting with the child and go. But she’s curious, wonders what exactly it is about Jenna that attracts all of her exes. She idly wonders if Damon went for her too, or if-  
  
“You must be Isobel, I am so sorry- my thesis adviser is a dick- I hope you haven’t been waiting too long?”   
  
“Not at all, Jenna right?”  
  
She nods and sits, Isobel taking her in. She is pretty, in a bland sort of way. There’s heavy concealer beneath her eyes, and Isobel wonders if that’s due to sleepless nights or something else.  
  
“So uh, I was pretty surprised to get your call.”   
  
The waitress comes over then, Jenna following her lead in ordering a cocktail. Isobel points to a bunch of appetizers, and Jenna looks excited- it’s almost boring how easy humans can be to manipulate even without compulsion.   
  
“I’m sure you understand with everything, I simply couldn’t come before. It wasn’t safe- tell me, how is Elena doing?”   
  
Jenna’s eyebrows come together, “What do you mean it wasn’t safe?”   
  
“Oh, I thought- I thought they told you.”   
  
“Told me what?”   
  
Isobel bites her lip, “I’m not sure I should say-”   
  
“If this is something endangering the kids, I need to know,” she says, voice firm.  
  
“You’re right, I just thought with her dating one- vampires are real.”   
  
Jenna laughs, anger overtaking her features. “Of all the ridiculous-”   
  
Isobel lets hunger overtake her face for a split-second, is ready to move past the typical reactions to the supernatural being real. The first round of drinks and crab cakes are gone by the time Jenna has finished compartmentalizing her realizations. The hurt and betrayal is obvious in her, too thick to bring conversation back where Isobel wants to.   
  
And she doesn’t even really mind like she ought. Jenna leans in to grab another slice of garlic bread and all Isobel can smell is the vervain in her perfume, wonders if it would come out after a shower.  
  
“I need time,” Jenna says abruptly, rising. “I can’t- I’ll call you when my head’s sorted.”   
  
Isobel doesn’t know if she’s disappointed or relieved that her successor in all things is so… tame. Typical. Human.  
  
“If you do anything to hurt my kids, I will go Buffy on your ass.”   
  
Jenna walks away, and Isobel can’t help a small smile. Perhaps she is a bit more interesting than she thought. It’s been some time since she found a lover the old-fashioned way, and she can’t deny the appeal of an easier connection to her daughter.   
  
The waiter comes back then, the human boy with a boring name like Mark or Monty or something. “Can I get you anything else?”  
  
And Isobel glances around her empty corner, mentally thanks the hostess, would take her home if it weren’t for her newest project.   
  
“Your wrist will do.” 


End file.
